A glimpse into the mind of Stiles and his memories of the couch.

I own nothing besides my OC and the story itself.

"Derek... Derek!" The alpha wolf sat up, grumbling as he stretched his muscles.

"What?" He growled, looking to the side where his Stiles was standing, a frown on his pale face.

"Come on, let's get you to bed." Derek got up with Stiles's help, though he rolled his eyes.

"And why did you have to bother me?" Derek raised an eyebrow, following Stiles up to the bedroom their shared with their kitsune named Macy.

"You can't sleep on the couch, bad for your back." Stiles's heartbeat skipped a beat, something it only did when he was lying or nervous. In this case, it was both. Though he wanted to ask he didn't, but someone else did instead.

"You're not telling us something sweetie." Macy Thomas was laying on the bed, dressed in one of Derek's henleys and a pair of Stiles's looser boxers. Stiles said nothing as he climbed onto the bed, slipping in the middle like he occasionally did. Macy's thin fingers stroked through his short brown hair as his eyes slipped closed, a memory coming to mind.


"Dad? Dad!" Nine year old Stiles came jumping down the stairs, taking one at a time. He turned into the living room and called out "Da-" But the call got stuck in his throat. "... Dad?"

John Stilinski was laying on the couch of their living room, passed out. The officer was snoring loudly, a bottle of Jack Daniel's held loosely in his hand. He was too big for this couch, his head hung awkwardly against one end of the couch and his feet swung over the other end, his shoes from work still on his feet. Stiles frowned, going to the side closet and pulling out a bright red blanket, dragging back into the living room.

"Here you go." Stiles whispered as he threw the blanket over his father, making sure he was covered well before he took the empty bottle of Jack Daniel's and threw it in the garbage can in the kitchen. The nine year old reentered the living room and sat on the chair near the couch, curling into a small ball. "Good night..." The nine year old Stiles stayed awake throughout the entire night, his bright amber eyes never leaving his father's chest. When the clock rang five o'clock in the morning Stiles allowed his eyes to close, reassured that his father was well, and alive.

His mother wasn't there anymore, but they would survive. Together.


"Stiles? Stiles!" The nineteen year old snapped his head up, looking at Derek and Macy who were watching him with concern. Macy reached a hand down, stroking his cheek.

"Sweetie, you're crying." The blond kitsune whispered, leaning down and nuzzling her face into his neck in an attempt to comfort the human. Derek took hold of Stiles's hand, moving both of his lovers into his body. Stiles held Macy close and cuddled into Derek's hard and warm chest, comforted and somewhat at peace. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep, letting his animalistic lovers comfort him throughout the night.